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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012202">lightsaber + cold open</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto'>impossiblepluto</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MacGyver (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s02e06 Jet Engine + Pickup Truck, Extended Cold Open, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, butchered Star Wars quotes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:27:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24012202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightsaber technology is still a few years away from being safe and stable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Dalton &amp; Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>lightsaber + cold open</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In honor of my two favorite nerds on Star Wars Day. May the Fourth be with you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac bites his lip turning toward his partner and the door that’s splintering under the force of the blows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are the odds that a lightsaber can deflect bullets?” Jack asks, grimacing and bracing as the door shudders behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought I was never supposed to tell you the odds,” Mac yells back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that it ever stops you, Threepio. You can’t help yourself. You’ve always got too many numbers and probabilities running through your skull. You probably see them floating in the air like some kind of special effects from the movies,” Jack wiggles his fingers, spreading his hand broadly as if to gestures to what he’s sure Mac sees when he's looking for a solution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I’m pretty sure this shouldn’t even be working.” Mac hisses and jerks his hand back, switching grips. Shaking the heat from scorched fingertips as the plastic casing of the flashlight heats under his skin. Wisps of smoke curl away from the roof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, told ya,  you can’t help yourself, oof-” his voice cuts off as a jolt from the door rattles through his spine. “Hurry it up, Luke, we’re gonna have company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, come on, hold together,” Mac whispers to the laser that rattles in his grasp. “Just a few more seconds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shower of sparks erupts from the canister. Mac jumps backward with a yelp, dropping the laser sword as his fingers sizzle. Throwing his hands up to protect his face from the flash and bang. The flashlight turned laser sword fuses itself to the floor, still humming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ceiling crumbles around him. Mac coughs, waving away the plaster dust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, man, Mac, we ain’t gonna fit," Jack stares up at the small hole in the ceiling.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac blinks hard, giving Jack a shove. “We’ll fit, we’ll fit!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack holds out his hands, giving Mac a leg up and he scrambles through the opening to the roof, squinting in the bright light before reaching back for Jack. Swallowing a gasp of pain and a flinch when Jack’s hands brush against his scalded skin. He heaves Jack through the hole, collapsing back onto the roof, panting. “Told ya we’d fit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, good job, kid. Don’t get cocky.” Jack slaps Mac’s shoulder, hauling him to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The costume shoes, not designed for traction, slide on the slick, tiled rooftops. Mac’s feet slip as he ducks behind a chimney, following Jack across the skyline of the closely packed Finnish homes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, that was so cool dude,” Jack says again, laughing in delight, keeping up a steady stream of Star Wars sound effects as they run. Lightsabers, Wookie growls and Darth Vader breathing. Dodging around chimneys and cupolas, stumbling over decorative arches, and avoiding loose shingles. The buildings tucked closely enough together that it’s an easy step from one roof to the next, and Mac, if he’s very careful and avoids looking down can almost forget how high they are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you said,” Mac mutters, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes as he scans the buildings, tracking possible escape routes. Getting trapped in another attic isn’t an option. He’s not sure he has another miracle in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe you made a lightsaber. I’ve been asking you to do that for years and you keep saying that it ain’t possible and then you go and do it.” Mac’s pretty sure Jack would be jumping in excitement if they weren’t standing on a roof. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was just luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, man, the force is with us today! No one is gonna believe it though, especially since you left it behind. That deserved a place in the Mac-hack hall of fame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac scrunches his eyes, trying to make the white spots in his vision fade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, hoss?” The excitement in Jack’s voice is replaced with worry, taking a few steps closer to Mac and gently putting a hand on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac pinches the bridge of his nose. He opens his eyes again, his vision still blurry and he tugs on his eyelids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you get something in your eyes?” Jack says, moving into Mac’s field of vision. He gently takes Mac’s face in his hands, peering into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac shakes his head, the movement aborted by Jack’s gasp. “Just the flash from the laser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Can you see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s just kind of blurry. Some spots.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack repositions his hands and tugs down gently on Mac’s lower lids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac pulls away from Jack’s grasp. “We can’t do anything here anyway. Let’s just get to ex-fil. I’ll just… I might need some help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Course,” Jack says, with a small frown, knowing how hard it is for Mac to admit his needs help and ask for it. “You stick close to me, I’ll take care of everything.” He takes Mac’s hand, guiding him across the roof, keeping him close. They stay crouched low. Their bright festive costumes will make them an easy target for anyone searching for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac focuses on matching Jack’s stride, his footsteps falling directly behind. He watches Jack’s back and the way his head turns for clues about their direction and strains, listening for the moment they’re discovered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s gait falters then slows, skidding to a stop. “I think we took a wrong turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry. The next roof isn’t that far. Just uh… don’t look down and get ready to jump.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack,” Mac’s tone is warning. He can feel his heart start racing as he takes a step forward to see the chasm that they need to cross. <em>Why'd it have to be heights?</em><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just told you, kid, no looking down,” Jack tugs him back. “You’re just gonna make yourself nervous. It’s about six maybe seven feet across. Your long legs, you can practically cross that in a single bound. One small step for man or something. Just pretend I accidentally blasted the controls that extend the bridge and the Stormtroopers are coming through the blast doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Mac licks his lips. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, you just hold on here. I’ve got ya. Stick close to me. Ya ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac nods miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack grabs the side of Mac’s face, pulling him close and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “For luck,” he whispers as they jump.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Look straight ahead for me,” the doctor instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac’s tongue dabs at his lips nervously as he sits on the exam table. He forces his eyes open against the bright light of the ophthalmoscope. His sense of Jack hovering, fidgeting, over his shoulder has nothing to do with the force and everything to do with knowing his partner and his penchant to worry. Especially over Mac’s wellbeing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they made it to ex-fil, Jack insisted on flushing his eyes with the sterile eyewash kit, shoving Mac into a seat and taking the one across from him. Jack leaned forward, balancing the first aid kit on his knees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humor me, Mac,” Jack cajoled. “Let me rinse your eyes and the burns you’re trying to hide on your fingers and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s for a chemical exposure. This was just a flashbang,” Mac argued with a sigh, and slunk down in his seat, allowing Jack to position his head, holding his eyes wide and letting the cool liquid flow over them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad we don’t have a bacta tank,” Jack commented, as he bathed Mac’s blistered fingers. His gun calloused hands gentle and soothing, smoothing ointment across Mac’s hands, but keeping the skin open to air. “Maybe you can build one of those next?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you said about lightsabers and yet,” Jack lifted Mac’s hand. “We got proof right here.” Jack leaned back, packing away the remains of the first aid kit. “Alright, why don’t you take the couch. I’ll get you a cool cloth to keep over your eyes until we’re home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you said if I let you take care of this,” Mac waved his hand, “you’d leave me alone the rest of the flight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave you alone to rest,” Jack replied, pulling Mac up from his seat and pushing him towards the couch to stretch out. “How was that unclear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac snorted but conceded defeat and flopped over on the couch. “Alright, I’ll try--” he groaned as soon as the word was out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do or do not, there is no try,” Jack positively cackled in delight, and Mac rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He allowed Jack to cover him with a blanket, and smirked to himself as Jack carded his fingers through his hair. Pretending he didn't find the action as soothing as he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bright light disappears from Mac’s eyes as the doctor leans back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no damage to the structures of your eyes. The spots should clear up in a few days without any lasting effects.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack echoes Mac’s sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I want to see you immediately if you start seeing floaters. If there’s flashing or sudden shadows. Or if your vision hasn’t cleared in three days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac nods his understanding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three days,” Jack repeats. “Three days, Mac.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were lucky, Mac,” the doctor says. “Let your eyes rest. Give them a break from screen time for a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack’s hand claps against Mac’s shoulder, squeezing the juncture of his neck lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As for the burns. They’re mostly superficial. Doesn’t mean they don’t hurt like hell. Keep them clean and dry. I’ll prescribe a salve that will help with pain and prevent infection. Try to keep the blisters intact. Plenty of fluid. Rest your hands. Maybe give the paperclip twisting a break for a while,” the doctor smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, can I go?” Mac asks hopefully, already scooting toward the edge of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here,” the doctor says with a smile at Mac's eagerness. He is halfway to the door before the words are out of the doctor's mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Doc,” Mac calls back over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Doc, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything dumb,” Jack says, hot on Mac’s heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The top is down on the GTO. Mac slouches in his seat, eyes closed and face pointed towards the sun. Enjoying the warmth on his face and the wind ruffling his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay, hoss? Your eyes bugging you?” Jack asks. “You can borrow my sunglasses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Just resting my eyes like the doctor said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You? Following doctor’s orders?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Mac’s eyes had been open he would have rolled them. Instead gives an unamused snort and a slow shake of his head, relaxing further into his seat. Letting the lull of the highway and Jack’s soft accompaniment of Salt ‘n’ Pepa wash over him. Despite what Jack claims, he did not fall asleep on the drive.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stirs and stretches as the familiar motion of the car warns him they’re approaching his home. He's made this drive nearly more times as the passenger than he's driven it himself.<br/></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack follows him into the house. “What are you thinking for dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac shrugs. He’s not feeling particularly hungry, but knows that won’t fly with Jack. The man has made it his life long mission to make sure he eats three meals a day. “Pizza?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you manage that with those mangled hands?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac holds up his hands incredulously. “They’re fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t need you ending up with second-degree cheese burns or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we can risk it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, you let me know if you need me to cut it up or something. The usual?” Jack asks, pulling out his phone, and Mac nods. Half-meat lovers, half-veggie lovers. They’ll cut the pizza into fourths and take a portion from each half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mac wanders into the living room, smiling as Jack flirts with Mrs. Mericio over the phone. He pauses in front of the fireplace, thoughts turning over in his head. Sliding down and sitting in next to the stone bench covered with half-finished projects and spare parts. He pulls out his knife and shifts the pile to gain access to an old computer tower, prying off the front panel for access to the inner workings, most importantly the laser diode of the the disc drive. <br/></span>
</p><p>"Haven't you played with enough lasers today?"</p><p>"Since I'm supposed to limit my screen time, I thought I'd make a laser microphone so we could play a movie in here but listen to it on the deck while we eat. Something we've seen a million times so it doesn't matter that we can't see it." Mac frowns, loosening the wires holding the diode in place and squinting through the white spots that still cloud in his vision. "Now all I need is a photocell, and a soldering iron..."</p><p>Jack taps the screen of his phone, turning up the volume. A sudden fanfare of familiar horns blares forth from the speaker. "There's an easier way to do that."</p><p>"You have Star Wars downloaded on your phone?"</p><p>"Yeah, this week I do. When I have to get a new one next week because you go <em>Jack I need your phone </em>and then break it beyond repair, I might do Die Hard. There's a rotation schedule."</p><p>Mac snickers.</p><p>"Come on, dude, Star Wars on the deck. And two beers with our names on them," Jack extends a hand, hauling Mac up from the floor. Placing his hands on Mac's shoulders and steering him out the door and into a chair. Jack settles deep into his own chair, and clinks his bottle against Mac's, listening to the story unfold and the swell of music. </p><p>Watching the first meeting between future best friends always makes Jack feel sentimental, no matter how many times he's watched it.</p><p>"Do you think Han knew, when he met that skinny blond nerd with the big attitude, how much his life was about to change for the better?"</p>
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